Mesh and Blood
by Foxbear
Summary: With Cybertron finally beginning to rebuild they must once again establish their presence throughout the inhabited systems. No mech expected this to be easy and many in the budding government calculated on using the members of Unit-E as ambassadors to the more bitter worlds, thinking that the humans would be good intermediaries. They had no idea how right, and wrong, they were.


_Fragments_

_For once I am able to record news that is wholly joyous. In these times of dark questions and cold relations comes word that has brightened all of our sparks. Our brother Micronous has returned to us from his wanderings. The gift granted him by Quintessa on his departure has been drained of all power by his actions but none grudge our smallest member that expenditure. He is full of tales of his new children and their brothers and the world he *word will not translate well into the Human dialect, possibly served/saved*. It is uplifting to know that when our descendants finally reach out for the stars they will find allies that are not wholly alien. Thirteen especially has high hopes for these, Microns, as Alchemist has named them. He claims that they and their brothers will stand as a bridge between the mechanical and the organic. I hope he is correct, I have noted a marked distain among some of our number for those species created from the dust of organic worlds and not forged of the rarer metals. To have such ambassadors would be a great boon for_

Smokescreen eagerly turned the silver scrap of page material over, and groaned in frustration. The opposite side held only a diagram of a, was it a mask? The kind that Soundwave wore? It seemed too thick for that. A rounded triangular body was framed in silvery armor centered on an elongated trapezoid screen. Two pseudo-limbs, possibly grapplers, sprouted from the wider end of the frame.

"Like some sort of Cybertronian face hugger," he muttered in annoyance.

The newly appointed head of the Elite Guard and Temporary Chief Archivist, because apparently being Alpha Trion's bodyguard/assistant for even as short a time as he had made him the closest thing to an archivist they had, gave an exasperated shake of his head. Somehow the young mech had envisioned the end of the war bringing him less work. He dutifully checked the scrap of archival parchment for hidden messages, there never was any, the writing style alone was enough to occlude the meaning most times, and carefully filed it with the rest of the English translation that had been discovered and turned over to the Archives.

There were so many questions. Why Alpha Trion had felt the need to hide and protect the Covenant of Primus was pretty obvious. Why he had chosen to shred the original and all the copies was not. Why he had scattered them over Cybertron. How they had survived the restoration unscathed. Why they were suddenly showing up in waves of fragmented knowledge. Why he had even bothered making an English language copy of their most sacred text when most humans were still in ignorance of Cybertronian existence. There were far fewer answers.

*Bumblebee to Commander Smokescreen,* the smooth voice crackled over the comm.

The blue and yellow mech indulged in smacking his crest against the storage shelf in front of him for a moment and gritting his dentia. He would give anything for one of Ultra Magnus's old subordinates to show up. One who outranked him and could take the reins of the department, either department. But that did not look like it was happening any time soon.

*Commander Smokescreen here; report.*

*There's been an incident.*

The mech turned briskly away from the storage shelf and strode to the door. Unheeded behind him the carefully placed file began to glow from within and tremble. The movement increased until it was a powerful vibration and the file fell to the floor with a clatter and burst open scattering the contents. The newest addition revealed itself to be the culprit, the letters pulsing and glowing energon blue in a particular double rhythm. A gust from the vents caught the scrap and flipped it over revealing the schematic on the other side. The screen on what the Guardsmech had dubbed the facehugger had lit up with a single, cerulean optic that stared intensely up at the blank ceiling.


End file.
